


Untitled Drabble Miniseries

by Lotornomiko



Category: Valkyrie Profile Series, Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth
Genre: Angst, F/M, One sided romance, more a drabble mini series than anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: Reworking of an old fic of mine, first written in like 2007 or 2008. Though maybe fic is the wrong word for it, since it's supposed to be a series of drabbles. Mostly little moments between Lezard and Lenneth after he succeeds in trapping his beloved Goddess into a cage of human flesh. Though in the reworking of just the first drabble, it already reach ridiculous for a drabble length! @_@Set some time in the first game timeline, assuming no time travel shenanigans ever happened...





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Lezard Valeth, Lenneth Valkyrie, or the series Valkyrie Profile. That honor belongs to Tri Ace and Square Enix. I make no money off of this fic either. Merely done as a creative outlet.
> 
> \---Michelle

At first Lezard thinks that he has imagined her presence. That the white of her dress playing in the corner of his vision is nothing more than a haunting memory of the glimpse he had had of her from earlier that night. Even the empty door that leads into his library seems to substantiate that claim, Lezard lifting his arms to bring his hands to his face. His glasses are pushed aside, Lezard’s fingers rubbing at his too tired eyes. He’s ready to write it all off as mix of his own personal longing, and the fact that hes done more than enough reading for one night. 

It’s not just his eyes that feel the strain, it is his head and it is his heart. All three made heavy, it is a weary Lezard turned ancient, that pushes back from his chair. The wooden legs of it scrape hard across the floor, that loud burst of sound echoing through out the upper levels of his tower. It’s that sudden noise that attracts HER to him, the woman suddenly there before the room’s door. 

Very much like a ghost clad all in white, her bare feet make not a sound on the floor. It’s what allows her to pad silently about the place, one careful step in front of the other, lending a practiced grace to her movements when just a scant few hours ago, she had been nothing but clumsy and awkward. She’s proven a fast learner, even for a divine entity, the woman having had only hours to learn how to control an all too new and very much human body.

It’s a task already well mastered, and Lezard can’t quite keep the pleasure from overtaking him. His tired heart suddenly feels full of a bursting joy, and it is with a satisfied purr in his voice that he acknowledges her. 

“Lenneth...” It’s not all pleasure that he feels. It’s surprise, the emotion hitting him hard, the shock of it born at seeing her up and about so soon. Never mind the feeble state that she had been in, her inner turmoil had far outweighed that of her physical. Bereft and despairing, her pain and heartbreak had been painted for all to see in the glassy blue of her eyes, she had been in no state for him to have expected Lenneth to venture out any time soon.

That tortured gaze drifted to his, Lezard catching an all too brief glimpse of the unrivaled purity of her blue eyes. For one second their gazes locked together, and then Lenneth was turning away, her face like cold marble for all the interest that she had showed him. She hadn’t been able to quite hide the disappointment though, that sad sort of frustration. It was near unbearable, this sad, sort of wraith that she had become, this pale imitation of her once vibrant self. He could only hope that in time it would get better, that she would get better,

“Wait!” He cried out, a hand of his held out towards her imploringly. He had felt a real panic at the thought of her leaving, it and the urgency that he always felt around her leaking into his voice. “Don’t go...”

She paused then, and the first flicker of hope dared light inside of his heart. He had no greater wish in the moment, than that of her acknowledgment, of that and of her tolerance, these scant few seconds in her presence a precious and wondrous thing. He braced himself for her emotions, for whatever glimpse she might allow of him. Even that sullen mood of earlier would have been welcome, though Lezard’s heart panged in protest at the idea of her maintaining her refusals to speak with him.

She still hadn’t turned to look at him, though Lenneth made no further move to walk away. But neither did she question him, the woman quiet like some sort of ghost, with only the gentle rise and fall of her chest to show that she still breathed, and was still alive. 

Lezard wasn’t accustomed to panic, and yet he felt it rising by leaps and bounds inside him. He didn’t know what to say to her, didn’t know how to further implore her to stay, or endear himself to her. So complete was his panic, that Lezard couldn’t even began to fathom what one would say to a Goddess, especially to one he had already failed to impress. His deep and endless affection, that enduring love he had borne for her, it and his desire hadn’t been enough, the woman unmoved by his ardent proclamation of devotion to her. 

Nor had any of his earlier boasts done the trick, the woman—the Goddess hardly impressed by his spectacular feats, the achievements in the forbidden magic that had led to Lenneth’s soul being trapped inside that cage of mortal flesh. Nowhere near ready for his professions of love, she had been equally as unprepared to be dazzled by one man’s obsession fueled blasphemy against her. Even if Lezard could have tried to fool himself otherwise, there had been no denying her reaction. The suppressed rage she had shaken with, or the anger in her hurt expression, the pain of it reflected a dozen times over in her beautiful blue eyes.

Haunted by just the memory of the look she had given him, Lezard’s tongue was like wood in his mouth, fumbling for something to say. Something simple, something to break the ice that existed between them. Something that would not cause her undue pain and distress. His mind cast about in endless patterns, the man trying to figure out what was that one thing they all had in common, that one thing that everyone could agree to. His desperate eyes cast about the room, as though the library with all it’s magical tomes held the answer that he needed. Maybe it did, the sight of a half eaten apple laying next to the open book that he had just thought to abandon.

His amethyst colored eyes lit up like jewels with his delight, the relief apparent in the way that he smiled. This was the one thing that all humans shared, the one common goal that linked them all together. Food. 

“Are you hungry?”

Wonder of wonders, but she had turned towards him, giving Lezard her full regard. It wasn’t food that she was after though, the woman shaking her head no. It was a new worry to file away for later, when Lezard had a moment to himself away from her. Then and only then would he wonder why Lenneth had yet to show any interest in food or drink since her having awakened as a human. Had something gone wrong with her body, with his spell? Or was she simply being stubborn with this kind of abstaining? He didn’t want to find out, didn’t want to face the idea of the magic having gone wrong, or worse yet, his having to force her to eat. Anymore than he was ready to allow the Goddess to rend herself sick through the act of neglecting her own needs.

It wasn’t a line of thought he wanted to indulge in and follow, not with Lenneth so near. Not with his attention drawn to the pouting pink of her lips, her mouth working open and close as though trying to give voice to some notion. He wondered then if she was even capable of it, the only sound she had thus far made, being that of an anguished scream. He hadn’t once heard her actually speak, neither to hate him nor to damn him. Not even to sob. He’d take what he could get from her, Lezard finding it was absolutely imperative that he hear her dulcet tones voiced out loud once more.

Her lips again tried to form the words, Lenneth going so far as to lick her lips nervously. “I...” She faltered then, as though that one sound had taken all of her strength to voice. “I want to go home.” Her voice was no less soft and unsure, her new throat not yet accustomed to speaking. He still flinched to hear it, staggered as though wounded by the sentence that she then repeated, and it was no softer then before, but somehow made stronger with that voiced desire.

~Why this!?~ Such a plea wasn’t completely lost on him, the feelings behind it needing a colder heart than his, to remain completely unaffected by it. He could only wish for the ease in which to close off his ears to the pain and the longing for home that was captured in her soft voiced utterance, Lenneth taking an uncertain step towards him.

“Please…?” She spoke as though that word alone could make all the difference, as though it had all the power in the world to change his mind. It didn’t, and even if it could, even if Lezard was somehow willing to now aid her, he simply lacked the means needed to be capable of rendering mortal flesh into that of a divine being.

“No.” It wasn’t meant to be outright cruel, that blunt refusal, but neither could he soften the blow of it. Lezard told himself that he wasn’t sorry, that he didn’t feel at all bad for the crestfallen look that overcame all of her hope. Yet he stepped towards her all the same, his hand catching hold of her bare arm, before Lenneth could make good on her intent to flee the room.

It was easy to forget himself, to give in to temptation with her so near. Only the way that she had so blatantly stiffened in displeasure, kept him in check, Lezard somehow not pulling Lenneth towards him.

He still warred with the urge, and with the words, offering her a boon in the only way that he could. “Ask of me anything else….anything within reason.” He was quick to stipulate in order to safeguard himself and HER from any dangerous requests. “Anything within reason, and I will do my best to try and grant it.”

She was quiet for a long time after that, her eyes locked onto the hand that was gripping hold of her arm. Lenneth made no actual move to escape him though, and his foolish heart beat with a renewed hope. If she could tolerate this much, what else might she grow to accept one day soon?

“Are...” Her quiet tone drew him out of his own private musings, Lezard quick to pay heed to her words. “Are there no windows in your tower?” She finally looked up, the blue of her eyes meeting the surprised amethyst of his. “I...I want to see the sky...”

Surprise gave way to relief, his smile that rare shade of brilliant that might some day rivals hers. All because this was a request that he could grant. Easily and gladly, and such was the excited joy in his heart, that he gave in to temptation. He crushed her to him, the woman letting out a startled cry as she tried to shove free of him. His arms held her trapped, taking an illicit moment to enjoy the sweet scent of her this close, to savor the delicate beauty trembling so viciously against him.

“Just one second more.” He whispered silkily in her ear, as blue and red etchings carved themselves into the floor beneath them. The Goddess had yet to notice, too busy trying to knock him off balance. It wasn’t until the sheen of blue silver rose up up and surrounded them, that Lenneth would still the worst of her struggles, to gasp out instead. She had surely recognized this magic, this spell in particular, an ancient, forbidden magic that Lezard had made frequent use of in that first battle between them.

With the sound of bells chiming loudly in their ears, that magic took rough hold of them, casting them into that dark in between that was neither here nor there. Teleportation magic was always as jarring as it was startling, and then they were spit out into a moonlit night. Gone was the dusty old carpets that they had just been standing on, replaced instead by the dew soaked cobblestones of the tower’s roof. There was a second of disorientation, that was broken up by an appreciative cry. Lenneth lip’s had parted with that sound, the woman bending back in his grip to stare up at a night sky that was a painted a midnight blue color, with hundreds upon hundreds of twinkling stars as it’s bold highlights.

The moon itself was out, round and thick, and hanging heavy amid a grouping of clouds. It’s white light seemed to shine directly on them, illuminating the tower’s rooftop, and the endless forest that extended in all directions around it. Lenneth’s eyes were all for it, her nostrils flaring as she took an exaggerated breath, and then another. She was in fact breathing in deeply of the night air, tasting the freedom that had thus far so eluded her.

Ever vigilant and cautious, Lezard slowly released his hold on her. His nerves were on edge and screaming, his arms ready to lash out and catch her should Lenneth so much as attempt to run from him. That she didn’t, couldn’t entirely relax him, Lezard watching as Lenneth began to spin slowly in place. Her arms were held out wide to either side of her, both her hair and her white dress being made to billow by the breeze. She seemed unreadable in the moment though Lezard still scrutinizing her closed expression for something, anything that he could have. He wanted her all, but in the moment, he’d settle for a single thought.

“What is it, Lenneth?” He asked her, hearing the way that she then sighed. It was such a deep sound, such a weight bearing exhalation. “What are you thinking?”

Her spinning slowed to a halt, her eyes lifting to look at his directly. There was a universe in that blue gaze, a whole realm of unfathomable mystery and feeling that she tried to keep from him. A million and one things she couldn’t give grudging voice to, and a soft reluctance that came born from deep within her heart.

“Thank you.” It was a simple gratitude, and it was gone as quickly as it had been said, the woman casting her gaze back up at the sky. Her arms were still raised in supplication to the heavens, Lenneth staring upwards with no real expectation voiced.

Unsettled, he could do nothing more than whisper a gruff acknowledgment, hoping against hope that somehow he had managed to please her in some small way.

“You’re welcome...”

 

To be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah...one of my oldest series, reworked to hopefully reflect the changes (And improvements I hope!) to my writing style. I mean when did I even start this one...back in like 2007 or 2008. @_@ I’ve been trying to reread my old VP works to get inspired (And yes OSVP is still being worked on..The overhaul of chapter eight got derailed big time though.) and the big problem I have with trying to work on any of them in 2018 is I hate how much my old writing sucks. A lot of it is to the point I can’t work on new chapters without trying to fix the old ones first….
> 
> I wasn’t even planning to rework this at first, but I reread it yesterday, and found I really liked this drabble series….and wanted to posted it to my archive or our own account. But I couldn’t bring myself to post the original version, too busy hating on the old writing, and knowing I needed to try and spruce it up some. Though the sprucing up ended up expanding it by over 1000 words...THUD!
> 
> At the time of this writing, I think I will leave both the old version and post the new version to my fanfic net account. I guess just sorta as a comparison thing.
> 
> Also...I remember I had this garden chapter written for 12….that was almost completed, and then lost when I had that big computer crash back in like 2008. I always felt disappointed and angry that I hadn’t gotten to post that garden thing….but now a decade later, I realize...it was wrong for the fic the way it was. (Cause it went into this weird smut territory.) that doesn’t mean I might not still try to write something garden themed eventually for this one!
> 
> One last thing, this series jumps around in order of events. It was never meant to be a continuous story per se, just little drabbles detailing the moments as they came to me of their time together. This is a VP 1/VP Lenneth setting as well….No time travel shenanigans of VP Silmeria.
> 
> Later!
> 
> \---Michelle


	2. Two: Hunger

The signs were all there. Lenneth had stopped eating. How many days had it been this time? How many sleepless nights had he spent worrying, Lezard sick with it, and sick with the grief, his anger and his upset leaving the man to feel absolutely helpless. Haunted by the cold reality of tray after tray abandoned, the food not so much picked at, as ignored entirely. Not a single bite had been taken, not a single spoonful tasted. 

He had spared no expense when it came to feeding her. To tempting her. Sumptuous feasts of roasted meats, delicate glazes, and the gravy to flavor them all. Buttery thick confections, sweet tasting cakes, frosted pastries, and the like. Fruits from all corners of the realm, ripe and fresh, preserved that way due to magic, Lenneth had shown no more interest in the fat berries than she had the fish from Hai Lan. She had cared not for the food from the holy city of Crell Monferaigne, or the common every day stock farmed from such villages like Coriander. She craved neither the simple nor the extravagant, turning up her nose at most of his offerings.

He had kept on trying though. Bringing before her rare delicacies from Vilnor, from Gerabellum, from Lassen. She never outright ate any of it, the Goddess more apt to pick apart the food and take only the bare minimum needed to keep her going. Only now it seemed she had abandoned doing even that!

It went beyond any pattern that he had grown familiar with. Her appetite sparing at the best of times, now seemed gone completely, the Goddess viewing the task of eating as though it was some horrendous chore. Little by little, Lenneth was wasting away, a once vibrant being now made listless and lethargic by her own hand.

It wasn’t the only sign of her starvation. Lenneth’s skin always a pleasant if pale shade of cream, now had grown so white as to be near translucent. Her clothing was starting to loosen noticeably on her already slender enough form. Worst yet might be her lack of strength, her rapidly depleting energy, a condition only made worse once she had started refusing all drink as well. She no longer even deigned to sip of even the freshest of spring water, Lenneth’s lips cracked from her dehydration. She was in effect dying a slow death, and Lezard wondered if Lenenth even cared.

It was the most passive aggressive attempt at suicide Lezard had ever born witness to. She was torturing herself, and she was torturing him, this wasting away that Lenneth was doing killing him inside. His heart so hurting with his worry, then sounded with a harsh beat at the thought of the Goddess cheating them both this way. It made him angry, SHE made him angry, Lezard wracked with a violent shudder and an unspoken vow that she would not escape him this way. 

Such was the violent strength of his anger, that the tray that Lezard carried actually shook. There was the wet sloshing sound of soup spilling over the sides of it’s bowl, Lezard biting back a curse at the mess that he was helping to make. The sight of that wasted food didn’t help with his anger, and abruptly Lezard was turning, marching his way back in the direction he had just come from.

His hands had white knuckled the tray, steadying it as much as he did his nerves and his resolve. He would not allow her to do this. He would not! One way or another, Lenneth would eat, either by his choice or by hers. 

She didn’t even seem to have enough strength left to muster up a gasp, though Lenneth’s mouth gaped open for one all too brief moment. Her genuinely disinterested facade faltered, that startled light gleaming in eyes that had colored a glassy blue. Lenneth stared at him from where she lay confined to the bed, too weak and too sick from her hunger to do much of anything else. The sight of her so weak and so frail, so clearly hurting, only cemented his resolve, his steel determination lending purpose to the way that he stalked his way toward her.

Lezard saw the way that Lenneth’s nostrils flared, that and the way that she struggled to sit up. She was too weak to do even that much on her own, and it made Lezard absolutely furious. “This has gone on long enough.” He all but snarled at her, his demeanor completely different from before. Gone was the gentle natured suitor, the would be lover who would have done and said anything to coax a willing response out of her. That man was who she had so blatantly ignored, Lenneth having turned on her side to present her back to him. It was that man who had walked away, who had almost accepted defeat at her hands. It was that man who he had let make him feel helpless, and it was that man Lezard now wrested control from.

Eyes that might almost be frightened tracked his forward progress, that beautiful blue color unnerving in the depth of feeling that it betrayed of her. He saw fear, but Lezard also saw a deep abiding resentment, that unspoken accusation boring into his very soul. Even at her absolute weakest, Lenneth’s warrior spirit remained, stubborn and proud, and ever ready for a fight. Nothing could sway it, sway her, not the gifts and the silk finery, not the jewels and his ardent proclamations of affection. And not even the food, Lenneth difficult as both a woman and as a captive.

She had such a strong and unyielding spirit, that noble heart of hers something to be admired, feared, loved. It left him in awe of her, and it left him furious, Lezard both hating and loving that stubborn streak that was so uniquely Lenneth’s own. It made her a woman like no other, the Goddess a challenge Lezard meant to unravel. 

With his eyes reflecting a subtle menace of their own, with the tray carefully set aside, Lezard reached for Lenneth with both of his hands. She made a sound very much like a hiss, weakly attempting to shove free of him. He ignored her feeble efforts, Lezard hauling Lenneth to sit up right across his lap. With her frail form situated snug against him, with his left arm an imprisoning weight across the tops of her breasts, Lezard brought a spoonful of the warm liquid to her lips. 

The silver scoop of the spoon actually nudged it’s tip against her lips, the Goddess making an outraged sound before abruptly turning away. So quick and so sudden was that head whip, that his hand was knocked off balance, splashing soup onto the front of Lenneth’s gown. She barely reacted to that, or to Lezard’s annoyed growl, Lenneth just resolutely keeping her nose upturned to his offerings. 

There was a dozen things he could have said to her then, a million accusations about her stubborn and difficult nature. They would have had as much effect as any of his earlier platitudes, the woman not of mind to care that Lezard was simply after what he saw as best for her. She cared not what he wanted, and not of his affection or of his worry, Lenneth turning her back on it, on him, pn it all. Where once such a blatant refusal and rejection would have left him stonewalled and helpless, the anger inside him only helped to combine and strengthen his resolve, and his determination.

With his eyes gleaming calculation behind the panes of his glasses, Lezard shifted enough to scoop up another spoonful of the warm soup. That silver utensil then clattered to the bed, a stray drop soaking into the mattress’ sheets, as his now free hand caught at the back of Lenneth’s hair. Stiff and unyielding, he heard Lenneth start to make a questioning bit of sound. Whatever she might have asked was then lost to the firm pressure of his lips, his mouth pressing an open mouth kiss to her. The noise she made then was an indignant shriek, the woman not quite able to keep from choking on the soup he had spilled into her mouth from his. The Goddess tried to rebuff him, tried to reject the nourishment offered, but Lezard kept their lips pressed together. She could no more spit out the soup, then Lenneth could hope to get away, the firm unrelenting grip of his fingers in her hair just as harsh and demanding as his lips and HER hunger. That mouthful of soup once tasted was near impossible to resist, her starved body’s instinctual need taking over, her throat working to greedily swallow down what she had so long denied it.

There was a soft rumble of sound from her stomach, a noisy protest of just how starved it truly was. He felt how that ineffectual fight inside her began to give, Lenneth trembling more and more violently in his arms. The last of her resistance began to crumble apart, and it was Lenneth’s tongue that then touched at his lips, the woman greedy for any lingering taste of the soup.

She wasn’t kissing him. Not exactly, and yet he couldn’t help himself. His tongue and his lips took sweet advantage of her, mouth molding firm and needy to hers. Lenneth gasped and faltered against him, everything of her from her soul to her body, seeming to withdraw in on itself. Lezard didn’t immediately relent, he couldn’t, greedy for a taste of the Goddess he had sinned so blatantly against. 

With his tongue slid firm and unrelenting inside her, he learned the soft contours of her mouth. Ate up the fitful sounds that she made, and enjoyed the squirming gyrations of her trembling body’s attempt to escape. It excited him, SHE excited him, his blood pumping furious through him as his exhilarated heart roared a pulsing tempo in his ears. It would have been SO easy, so easy and ever so tempting to take further advantage of her. 

He was anything but a saint, with his unholy desire and his unrelenting pursuit of her. His hands already so dirty from sin and temptation, and with the numerous crimes committed for and against her, it took a strength of will Lezard hadn’t known he had possessed, to stop at just a kiss. That they were both red faced and panting, made breathless from the experience, brought a crooked smile to the man’s lips. He took in the sight of her, of her cracked lips looking swollen, of the wild look in her eyes, and of the way her erratic breathing made her breasts heave and strain thin the satin fabric stretched across her chest.

She was staring back at him, her eyes wide and wary, something very much like apprehension a light in that cobalt blue color. Lezard wondered just what his own unsettled gaze showed her, if the demons of his lust waged their battle in his very expression.

“Now...” There was no helping the husky, overly sexual timber of his voice. Not after that kiss he had just stolen! He shifted enough to fetch the spoon, Lenneth never quite looking away from him. There was a ripple of sound made by an unsteady hand, Lezard getting another scoopful of soup before continuing. “Are you ready to eat on your own…? Or….” His eyes dipped low to caress an intimate look at her lips which were still all a quiver. 

It was a threat that needed no further voicing, Lenneth sagging in defeat against him. He was ALMOST disappointed, but that was also lost to the relief, the Goddess finally breaking her fast to take in eager mouthfuls of the soup. 

 

To be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah….well this one ended up deviating a bit from how the original drabble was. Just in that Lezard got angry over her starvation attempt.
> 
> May take a break from the drabbles overhaul, to go work on OSVP eight now…but we shall see where the inspiration ultimately leads me!
> 
> \---Michelle


	3. Three: Nightmare

The night was a time for secrets and sins, it’s heavy shroud of darkness casting all manner of shadows on the dirty dealings of a heart that was impure. Those inky black tendrils seemed to seep into everything, from the blood that stained his hands, to the criminal lusts of a man who was driven. By desires both ruthless and unrelenting, his curious nature outdone only by his obsession. By the woman, the Goddess, and all the many mysteries around her.

An enigma at best, Lenneth was the one puzzle he had yet to unravel. She was a challenge that he thrilled to, the Goddess this question whose answer he meant to have, Lezard as determined as he was devious, and so thoroughly devoted in his distraction, that he had taken to pacing the halls. Every step led him to her, Lezard unable to stay away. Unable and unwilling, with a mind refusing to focus on anything that didn’t have to do with the Goddess, his was an almost predatory excitement.

He anticipated the screams. Had in fact counted on them, the sound breaking into the quiet of the night. Even the tower had seemed to hold it’s breath, everyone---everything waiting, listening and rewarded with the sounds of the Goddess’ distress. That of her nightly torment, Lenneth’s voice a shrill echo that always brought him running. He’d burst into her room just in time to savor the sight of her writhing form, the thin sheets of the bed often kicked off during her spastic struggles. It left her exposed, the thin white fabric of her night dress riding up high on her thighs, her thrashing form fighting against some demon whose sole existence was locked inside the Goddess’ mind.

Caught up by that monster, by some secret fear, Lenneth often screamed herself awake each time. She was still a sight to see, with her long hair unbound from it’s braid, that wild mane of a bluish silver spread out around her. His fingers itched to sink into that silk, to see if it was as cool to the touch as his Goddess’ waking demeanor often was. She could be like ice, so cold and determined to disdain him, to ignore and revile him, so complete the opposite of this. With the pain and torment in her voice, the fright making her body strain and arch, even bounce back against the bed. It was almost obscene the way that she moved, the way that her hips rolled as though to buck off of an invisible assailant. 

Such a sight tore a ragged breath from HIM, Lezard always having to pause. To stand there almost stupidly, and just watch the writhing torture of his beloved, before yet another scream broke through his distraction, the sound so plaintive and full of suffering that his heart moved with a kind of pity. With that feeling that made him push back through the first potent strains of an appreciative lust that was stirring. Painfully aware of it, and of her, Lezard would end up on the bed, strong hands reaching out to her. The barest graze of fingertips against skin, and then the Goddess would jolt awake, an almost hysterical scream locked in her throat. She’d fight him as he pulled her against him, the woman, Lenneth, outright shaking as without a word, Lezard tucked her in close against his chest.

“Shhh….” He’d whisper a soothing sound, feeling her flinch as his hands explored over her back. Lezard would pet a calming path into the fabric of her night dress, sly fingers longing to caress directly over exposed flesh. That much he didn’t dare, the temptation such that his fragile control would all but snap apart. It didn’t stop him from wanting, from being aware of it and aware of her, Lenneth’s soft, trembling form, pressed against his. He felt every panicked breath, felt the harsh heave of her chest, and the firm shape of curves that were perfect. SHE was perfect, a magnificence personified, the Goddess this tangible fantasy made real. HIS, Lezard’s fingers hesitating, pressed as they were on the clothed part of her back. The temptation was there, his rapidly fraying sense of right versus wrong this much closer to tipping over.

She seemed to know it too, Lenneth going absolutely still in his arms, not so much as an agitated quiver to betray her. He was the one left shaking, his lust and his love at war, a moment’s satisfaction weighed against a lifetime’s worth. It was the good and it was the bad, Lezard greedy for BOTH, the urge there almost stronger than what any one man should endure. It brought his blood boiling, left him to stew in a turmoil of his own making. Caught in the cusp of a want so potent, his body was left helpless, reacting on primal instinct, loose fitting pants growing tight and unbearable. 

His Goddess had to be as aware of it as he, this charged moment between them, and the unspoken threat laying heavy on them. Lenneth spoke not a word, made not even a sound, not so much resigned as she was defiant, the rebellious blue of her eyes shining with that indomitable strength. It was a challenge that glared up at him, his Goddess practically daring him to prove just what level of a low life scum he really was.

Such a look couldn’t outright cool the fire burning within him. Maybe nothing could, Lezard torn up by his desires. By that perverse want twisting around inside him, that same lust the very thing that had thrilled to Lenneth’s nightly distress. To the reason it gave him to visit and hold her, Lezard aware that nothing short of the most horrific of nightmares would have brought the unwilling Goddess into his arms’ embrace. Caught as she was, it was Lezard who was now captive, the man bound up by the conflict inside him. The war that he was losing, his reason chipped away bit by bit as each night repeated.

It left him looking forward to her screams, to the terror that tormented her nightly, those nightmares the excuse needed to justify his holding her. It had never gone much further than that, but the temptation had always been there. Always and forever, Lezard this much closer to bursting, all a quiver with that violent need. 

It had fueled so much of actions, had been the driving force behind his obsession. It had led him to commit countless crimes and unspeakable acts, to broach the forbidden and do the impossible. It seduced him with whispers, with the hard truths he did not want to accept. It paved an easy path for his lust, such temptation making his fingers tense and curl in place over her the back of Lenneth’s dress. He could barely stand against it, barely make the effort to fight, each night, each touch weakening his restraint just a little bit more.

Tired and ever so weak, this struggle was HIS nightmare to relive.

 

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as the other ones….And it veered wildly off track from how the original nightmare drabble went. @_@ For the longest time I was stumped on how to revamp it too...didn’t get inspiration until late last night. Though I had still hoped to work in the part when he asked about her nightmares, Lenneth didn’t answer except to say she was living it. But it didn’t happen….
> 
> If I stick to the drabble series and the order the original version went, the next one might be a combination of what took place over three or four drabbles. Then again, this is already trying to veer off drastically from how the original drabble series went….and right now I am itching to jump to the one about when she first woke up his prisoner and in a homunculous body. But we shall see!
> 
> Laters!
> 
> Michelle


End file.
